


Benchwarmer Trio

by BelaCinderella



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But aren't all boys at that age??, Flirting, Fluff, From a real jerk Dad, High school Boyfriends, Homophobia, Lacrosse, M/M, and benchwarming activities, except Isaac is really shitty at it, or something like that, repressed homosexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2503070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelaCinderella/pseuds/BelaCinderella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was Isaac's freshman year, bench-warming for the third game in a row, when he finally took a look at the two dweebs who sat down at the end of the bench every game. One had a weedy look and a prominent nose, and the other had a goofy smile and a tragic haircut. Isaac had never really spoken to either, but he was pretty sure the first one – was his name Scott? – was in his algebra class. Scott and his friend were always snickering during games, and Isaac wanted in. Also, Scott’s dorky friend had caught his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really trash, incoherent WIP I'm doing. Some of the pieces seem a little disjointed and that's because they are. But do enjoy

      Isaac’s upbringing was hell and his temper was worse. With a father who liked to throw fits, and sometimes plates, it was inevitable that Isaac would let his anger rule him. Growing up he would get into a lot of fights with the kids at school until he got into sports. There the jocks weren’t afraid of him, and gave as good as they got. They didn’t let him get away with anything. Lacrosse allowed him to belong to a family that he not only chose, but that wanted him back. Despite having an outlet for pent up aggression, repressed anger that was mostly directed at his father and sometimes at himself, it didn’t clear up all of the issues. Sometimes the drywall still took a good pounding, and sometimes he still found himself in the principal’s office. Those really set his father off and it was a terrible cycle.  


      When Isaac got to high school, he stayed in lacrosse and tried very hard to keep his nose clean. He tried, but there was that one kid who mouthed off at him for being a grave-digging second-string player without a mother. He tried, but he really was just going for the ball and had no idea how that player from the other team got injured.  


      It was his freshman year, bench-warming for the third game in a row, when he finally took a look at the two dweebs who sat down at the end of the bench every game. One had a weedy look and a prominent nose, and the other had a goofy smile and a tragic haircut. Isaac had never really spoken to either, but he was pretty sure the first one – was his name Scott? – was in his algebra class. Scott and his friend were always snickering during games, and Isaac wanted in. Also, Scott’s dorky friend had caught his eye.  
That was a big part of Isaac’s anger. His father was vehemently against “perverted butt-pirates,” railing against how disgusting their “ass-pounding” lifestyle was. Gays were the most horrible, unnatural entities, and they were poisoning America. Isaac had figured out he liked guys in 7th grade, but knew he couldn’t tell anyone. If his father ever found out, Isaac would get a beating he’d never forget. And he was angry because if his father ever found out, Isaac would lose what little love his father still had for him.  


But Scott’s friend had caught his eye.  


**XXXXX**  


      It was the first game of the playoffs and Isaac knew he was going to be on the bench, so he went to sit by Scott when coach finished the third terrible “pep talk” of the day.  
Scott raised an eyebrow, “what’s up, Isaac?”  


“Um, hey. How’s it going,” Isaac knew he sounded awkward.  


“Oh yeah, ridin’ the pine,” piped up Scott’s friend, lopsided smile playing on his lips.  


“Stiles, that’s a baseball term,” Scott rolled his eyes.  


“It doesn’t matter, it still applies,” retorted Stiles, then looked at Isaac, “I don’t think we’ve ever spoken. I’m Stiles.”  


Isaac smiled, “I’m Isaac,” and for the rest of the season – their team won the championship again – they became the benchwarmer trio.  


**XXXXX**  


After a particularly tough algebra test (who could actually remember the quadratic formula?) Isaac and Scott were lounging by their lockers when Stiles appeared.  


“I’ve been told that the symptoms of my broken MC1R gene are really kisses from angels.”  


“English, dude,” laughed Scott.  


“My freckles, man,” said Stiles, enthusiastically pointing at his face, “there’s a myth that says each freckle is a kiss from an angel. Jealous yet?”  


“Stiles, no one is jealous of your freckles,” Scott said.  


“I don’t know,” shrugged Isaac, “I’m jealous. I’ve always wanted freckles.” Stiles smiled at him, perhaps a little shyly.  


“Oh!” started Scott as the warning bell rang, “do you guys want to hang out on Saturday?”  


“Sure,” came the reply.  


“My place, five, junk food and movies,” called Scott as he jogged off.  


Isaac realized he didn’t know where Scott lived while he was sitting in English.  


**XXXXX**  


“You’re going to hang out with who?” asked his father.  


“Scott McCall, my teammate,” answered Isaac, searching his father’s face for signs of trouble, “he’s also in my algebra class. Really smart-“  


"I don’t give a shit about his grades. You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” demanded his father, face tightening.  


“No, Dad.” His father continued to accuse him with his eyes. “Honestly. And our other friend Stiles is going to be there too.”  


“The fuck kinda name is that?”  


“It’s just a nickname,” Isaac shrugged, “We’re gonna watch movies.”  


“What time will you be home?”  


“I don’t know. We didn’t-“  


“I said what time?” growled his father.  


“Um, definitely no later than midnight,” faltered Isaac.  


“If you’re late I’ll lock you out. You ridin’ your bike?”  


Isaac nodded. His father shrugged, “have your chores done by four then,” and he walked away.  


**XXXXX**  


“Dude, you’re wrong,” Stiles laughed, “TRON: Legacy was great, and the graphics were amazing, but it wasn’t as groundbreaking as the original! The idea of going inside computers? The guy who thought that was either high or a genius!”  


“Bro, shut up,” hollered Scott, throwing a pillow at him. Over his shoulder to Isaac he said, “this is the third time I’ve heard this argument. You, however, are a fresh victim. Virgin ears.”  


“Also it’s a Walt Disney movie! DISNEY! When you think of Disney, it’s princesses and singing animals! Not TRON! And Marvel! They bought Marvel for $4 billion! Can you imagine the movies that’ll come out if they have Disney’s budget? Whhhaaaatttt!”  


“I swear to God, if you keep talking I’m going to kill you,” Scott loped into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “are you guys hungry? Mom got everything.”  


Stiles followed at the mention of food, and Isaac trailed behind. He was slightly intimidated with how palatial Scott’s house was. Also, how homey it was. Pictures of Scott adorned corner tables, and despite it being a week away from Thanksgiving, there were still a few Halloween decorations laying around. He was so busy looking at how high the ceilings were that he didn’t see the bag of Doritos until they hit him in the face.  


“If those are your reflexes, how did you make it on the lacrosse team?” Scott laughed. Isaac rolled his eyes.  


“I’ll take one for the team and delegate myself as food prep supervisor and snack coordinator,” Stiles announced, then grabbed a bowl and shoved it at Isaac, “popcorn.” When the snacks were finally agreed upon and assembled, they trooped over to the couch, each juggling as many snacks as they could carry, trying to outdo one another with their food transportation prowess. The curtains were pulled and the lights shut off, then they collapsed on the couch. Isaac at one end, Scott at the other, and Stiles sprawled across everything in the middle. They were there for six hours, watching Quentin Tarantino movies, eating as much as possible, and debating thoroughly unnecessary topics. Isaac finally looked at the clock. It read 11:15 PM.  


“Oh shit,” he rolled off the couch and grabbed his jacket.  


“Dude, what’s up?” asked Scott, and Stiles looked concerned.  


“I have to be home by midnight or my dad’ll lock me out,” he blurted, looking around wildly for his shoes.  


“It’s almost midnight,” Stiles said, “just spend the night. I am.”  


Scott nodded, “my mom won’t mind. Just help us clean up the kitchen.” So Isaac texted his dad _I’m spending the night at Scott’s._ He got no reply.  


After cleaning up the kitchen they finally went upstairs to Scott’s room, where Stiles collapsed on the bed.  


“Yeah, go right ahead,” Scott said, and got a grunt in reply. He sat down on the floor, Isaac settling next to him, took off his socks and threw them at Stiles’s head.  


“You know what,” said Stiles, brushing off the dirty socks, “I have to live it up now, since you’re going to make me sleep on the floor later anyway.”  


“That’s right,” Scott turned to Isaac, “we’ve got sleeping bags and a futon. It’s not like you’ll be directly on my uncomfortable floor. Stiles is just a big drama queen.”  


“Just one futon?” asked Isaac as he realized there was only room for one other mattress in the room.  


“Yeah, but I’ll get two sleeping bags. I won’t make you sleep right next to Stiles. He’s a bit grabby at night,” Scott laughed. Isaac couldn’t decide whether to be excited about sleeping near Stiles or jealous that Scott has slept near Stiles. He knew they were best friends, but still. Instead he came up with a strangled, “oh,” and Scott looked at him funny, so he quickly added, “want some help with the futon and sleeping bags?”  


“Yeah, thanks. The futon’s heavy and Stiles is a big puss about manual labor,” Scott yelled that last part, and only got Stiles’s middle finger for his efforts.  


They stayed up talking about school and lacrosse, how Jackson was the world’s biggest douchecanoe, and how a certain strawberry blonde was so far out of their league it hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

“WAKE UUUUUPPPPPP!” the call echoed around the house as Scott came barreling up the stairs, skidding around the corner, and jumping on top of the sleeping bags where Stiles and Isaac were sleeping.

“Hnnnnngggghhhooooooooo GOD, SCOTT,” Stiles rolled over, pillow creases across his cheeks, “fuck you, man. Why would you do that? Nobody in this room is a goddamn morning person.” 

“Mom made waffles!” grinned Scott, “and if you don’t get up, I’m pouring ice on you.” 

Isaac sat up, hair rumpled, sticking up in all directions, and yawned. Scott hopped up and ran back down the stairs, yelling over his shoulder, “get up or I’ll eat everything.” 

“He really will too. I might have the best appetite, but Scott’s a close second,” Stiles yawned, smacking his lips in a way that ought to be disgusting if it didn’t make him look like an adorable six year old. He even actually tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. They both got up, wearing their t-shirts and boxers, Stiles wearing socks. Isaac tried hard to not run his eyes over Stiles’s body, but he did notice that Stiles’s boxers sat low on his hips, and he had the most kissable neck Isaac had ever seen. 

Stiles turned to look at Isaac as he walked out of Scott’s room, “you talk in your sleep,” and a Cheshire grin played around his mouth. Isaac’s eyes widened and Stiles laughed, trotting down the stairs and into the kitchen. Scott’s plate was already littered with the remnants of waffles and bacon, drinking coffee out of a cheesy Garfield mug. 

“Morning, sleepy heads,” said Scott’s mom, preparing two plates with stacks of waffles and several strips of bacon, “you slept for a long time.” 

“We’re teenagers, Mrs. McCall, it’s what we do,” said Stiles, “did you know teenagers are supposed to get nine to ten hours of sleep every night?” 

She shook her head, putting down a plate in front of Isaac first, who said a polite, “thank you, ma’am.” Then she placed a plate in front of Stiles, who said, “aw yes, Mrs. McCall, you make the best breakfasts.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Isaac, I put a lot on your plate because I don’t know how much you eat, but if you don’t load up quickly, it’ll be gone faster than you can blink.” She spoke from experience. 

“Hey Mom, what time is it?” ask Scott, shoving another bacon strip into his mouth. 

“It’s almost 11:35, dear,” she said. 

“Dammit,” he said, dashing out of the room, leaving his dirty plate on the table. “I have to be at the clinic by noon!” he yelled down the stairs in explanation. Five minutes later he flew down the stairs, hair still rumpled with a dirty t-shirt on, into the kitchen, “hey guys, I’m really sorry about this. I totally forgot until just now. I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” then ran out to the garage. Stiles and Isaac heard the garage open and Scott pedaled past the front window. Mrs. McCall sighed and went to go close the garage. 

“Boys, I need to be at the hospital by one. Just so you know,” she went upstairs. Once this flurry of activity was over, Isaac and Stiles looked at each other. 

“Sorry, man,” Stiles took another slow sip of coffee, “it’s my lazy Sunday. I’m not going to rush around; I do that enough during the week.” 

Isaac shrugged, “does it look like I’m one to argue?” Stiles smiled, then said, “Hey, are you going to eat that waffle?” and without waiting for an answer he took the half-waffle off of Isaac’s plate. Isaac stole a piece of bacon in retaliation, and Stiles gave him a pouty face. 

They went back upstairs, Stiles disappearing into Scott’s bathroom to brush his teeth. Having slept in his t-shirt, Isaac just needed to pull on his jeans. He was leaning across the futon to grab his shoes when he caught Stiles’s scent, which still clung to the sleeping bag that Isaac was hovering over. Stiles wore a spicy cologne, but underneath was a base aroma of crisp soap and salty sweat. Isaac breathed deeply, trying to memorize the smell so he could come back to it another time. He heard the water shut off, so he took one last deep breath before sitting up as Stiles walked out of the bathroom. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible as Stiles pulled on his jeans, but oh God they hugged his ass so perfectly. Stiles turned around and Isaac looked anywhere else. 

He was checking his shoelace knots for the third time when Stiles said, “you aren’t any kind of subtle, Isaac Lahey.” 

“Huh?” said Isaac, but he was already blushing. 

“You know exactly what I mean. I happen to know about every time you’ve checked me out. Just now, this morning, occasionally in the locker room. You’re so obvious… it’s actually kind of nice. Flattering, really.” 

Isaac opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as his lips parted he forgot what he wanted to say. He shut his mouth. He frowned. 

Stiles leaned over with his goofy smile and said, “oh my God, Isaac Lahey, you don’t just think I’m hot, you like me!” He seemed genuinely excited. 

Isaac sighed as he stood, jamming his hands in his pockets, “maybe I do,” he mumbled. 

Stiles pulled one of his hands out and held it lightly, “well that’s good, because maybe I like you too.” 

After a bit of silence, they both realized that they were in Scott’s house without Scott but with Scott’s mother, and decided that maybe it was best if they left. They made sure to clean up the kitchen before yelling a goodbye up the stairs to Mrs. McCall and grabbing their bikes from the garage. The pedaled out onto the main road, and Isaac realized that Stiles was crossing the road. 

“Do you live on the other side of town?” called Isaac, hoping that maybe Stiles would tell him where he lived. 

“Not really,” said Stiles, weaving back onto Isaac’s side of the street, “I live just around the corner. Well more like down a few blocks plus around several corners.” 

“I’ve got nothing to do today… do you?” Isaac was so shit at flirting he wanted to die. Thankfully Stiles understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was a short chapter. This is the end of all the stuff I already have written, so now's when updates will get sporadic. Again, comments and kudos are always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE leave feedback about this one. Every little comment and kudos is appreciated (especially since I'm a little worried about my characterization with this one)


End file.
